


Two Sides

by Hexiva



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: FoeYay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers tries to show the Red Skull what love is. Set during Captain America #298.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the pairings to write fluff for . . .

The air was filled with smoke, giving the facsimile club an unreal air. Like something out of a dream - or perhaps a memory. 

The Red Skull - or was it Johann Shmidt, now? - took Steve Rogers by the arm, and led him into the club. Steve sat at the table, watching Schmidt’s mad blue eyes and listening to his story. 

It was one he had heard parts of before, and it was not one that surprised him. It mirrored his own life in many ways: an orphan, small and weak and bullied. But he had never been alone. Even before he had met Bernie, or Sharon, or Peggy, he had known love. His mother, Arnie, Bucky - he had never been alone, not really. Even now, it was his love for Bernie, Sam, and Arnie that kept him here, silently bearing witness to the Red Skull’s life. 

“I see it in your eyes. You have naught but pity in your heart, even for so _vile_ and _venomous_ a creature as me,” Shmidt said. Steve wondered whether the hate in his voice was meant for Steve - or for himself.

And yet Shmidt, for once, was right. Stripped of his masks and his plots and his lies, his dramatics wearing thin in the face of death, the man behind the Red Skull was a pitiful figure. Steve couldn’t imagine what it was like to live like that, without hope or love. No wonder the Skull hated him so much. Hate was all he had. 

But then Steve reconsidered. He remembered Skull telling him how he couldn’t bear to kill his daughter, how despite all his hatred he had built her a house and raised her. And he remembered Skull’s hand on his shoulder, gently leading him here, trying to make his worst enemy understand who he was. Calling him a friend, paradoxically, calling him his opposite face. 

That, Steve thought, was love. Twisted and broken and grown all out of shape, but still love, under it all. 

He stood up and put a hand on Shmidt’s shoulder. Shmidt started and tensed. “What - ?” Steve knew he was expecting to be hit.

Instead, Steve leaned in and kissed him, gently.

Shmidt froze. Steve wrapped an arm around him, and he felt him shaking. Shmidt’s lips were warm and dry, and his body felt thin and vulnerable in his arms, no longer a terrifying menace, but just another old man afraid to die alone. 

Steve knew this wouldn’t change anything. Even if he could succeed in showing Shmidt what love was with this simple physical act, he knew Shmidt was still evil, to the bone. And Shmidt knew it as well. This wouldn’t save him or his friends, or even Shmidt.

But as Shmidt’s shaking hands came to rest on Steve’s shoulders, Steve knew that it was worth it.

With a sudden movement, Shmidt shoved his enemy away, throwing him to the ground. He wiped his mouth off, staring at Steve in shock. 

“I guess Arnie isn’t the only ‘fop’ around here,” Steve said, with a wry smile - the first thing he’d said to the Skull since his capture.

Shmidt stayed stock still and shocked for a moment more, before he said, “I have errands to attend to. I will return to discuss our final battle.” He whipped around and exited the club, shaken.

Steve could only hope that his act hadn’t doomed himself and his friends.


End file.
